


Survive

by Walker_August



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Injury, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 00:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17033108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walker_August/pseuds/Walker_August
Summary: August Walker x reader based on the prompt:“Could you please do an August Walker x Reader where they are both captured and she is tortured in front of him? And after they are rescued unspoken feelings emerge?“





	Survive

August’s eyes open to a faint light and a dull throbbing in his head. He’s groggy, struggling to piece together his last memories before everything went dark, trying to figure out where he is and more importantly where you are. Quickly he realises his wrists and ankles are bound with tight, skilful knots and as his eyes adjust he discovers he’s in a warm, dark cell and you’re not there. He breathes in the damp air, smells the must, and noting the lack of natural light. He must be underground, somewhere. He’s unnerved but doesn’t panic, knowing it won’t help and needing to figure out how to get out, how to get to you.

The mission wasn’t any more complex or dangerous than others you two had taken on together before, so why hadn’t he seen this coming? Why hadn’t he realised the two of you were being tailed? August couldn’t help but blame himself for such a monumental failure in the job that had now ended up with the two of you assumedly captured and in enemy hands. August has no way of knowing if you’re even alive, and despite himself that’s the thought that starts to set off fear in him.

For what he thinks is hours August sits there in the dark, listening – there’s a guard outside his cell pacing, occasionally coughing, never leaving. There’s a drip of water from somewhere. Other than that it’s just him and the increasingly sharp pain in his head. Until he hears the scream, piercing the silence so suddenly he jumps. It’s you, he knows it straight away. You’re in the cell opposite, then, and they must be trying to extract information from you. The pain in your voice when you cry out makes him shake, makes him clench his fists. He feels it. It goes on for too long, far too long, until it’s barely a scream anymore. Until it falters and stops.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself and listens intently for any more noise but there’s nothing; the guard has stopped pacing, he can’t hear any talking. It’s imperative that he figures out what the situation is; who they are and what they want. What are they trying to get out of you? He knows why they’ve gone straight for you – it was a different partner last time, but the reasons remain. You look easier to crack, less likely to put up a fight. August knows you better, knows just how much you’ll fight. And he knows you’ll die before you compromise the agency or your country. He hates that and tries to push the thought away, unexpectedly overcome with emotion at the thought of losing you. It won’t happen. It can’t.

Maybe a few hours later there’s noise again. Sounds of a struggle coming from wherever you are. You choking and spluttering, gasping loudly. He can imagine exactly what they’re doing to you. His eyes sting, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. Body straining against the bonds, needing to get to you. Needing to protect you. It occurs to him that maybe this is their way of torturing him, maybe they somehow knew hearing your pain would drive him to the brink. It’s working. He never lets his emotions get the better of him, not on a mission, but for a split second he’s sure he’d give up every secret in the world to ensure your safety.

—

At some point the pain in his head and the dehydration leads to exhaustion. He fights against it for some time, trying to will himself to stay alert, before he passes out again. When he eventually comes to, he can’t tell how much time has passed. He feels almost numb, body weakened from the need for water and the struggle. There are painful, raw marks where he’s fought against the ropes binding him but still he strains against them. It’s the weak, rattling intake of breath that he hears from the corner of the room that stop him in his tracks. He squints and lets his eyes adjust to the dim light, and there you are. Not bound like him, but damaged. Blood staining you. Bruises and welts adorning your skin. His heart almost stops at the sight when he realises what he’s seeing. Your eyes are closed, head lolling back – do you even know he’s there? At first he can’t get any words out, throat dry, but eventually he rasps out your name and your eyes open, just slightly.

You open your mouth but only cough, body unmoving as you stare back at him. Whatever strength he has left he musters, so he can shuffle closer to you. When he’s close enough you let yourself slump against him so he can support you. “I’m so sorry” he mutters “I don’t know what happened but I’m going to get us out of here”.

“Not your fault, Walker” you choke out, voice barely there. “And I’ll get us out” the hint of a smile on your lips. August lets out a breath, glad beyond belief to see that they may have broken your body but your spirit and stubbornness remain thoroughly intact.

“Did you give them hell?”

“Oh. You have no idea” a tiny laugh at this “Your turn next though, they want me to watch. Unless they-” your voice falters and you take a sudden gasp, agony on your face as it courses through your body. The safety blanket that your words offered him are suddenly ripped away as he realises just how much pain you’re in. It makes him feel sick, makes him shake. He wants to wrap his arms around you and comfort you, but he can’t. There’s a rage building deep inside him, preparing for when they come for him. But when you place your hand on his upturned palm he can feel the surge of emotions battling it out inside of him. “I snatched this…off a guard” you murmur and he feels the cold hard metal of a blade in your palm. You were always full of surprises.

It’s so eerily quiet that the sound of the knife against the rope seems almost too loud. Will they hear it and come looking? You concentrate hard on breaking the bonds but it’s difficult in your condition, exerting the little strength you have left. After breaking the first circle of rope against his wrist you have to stop, placing the handle of the knife in his hands and angling it so he can try. You slump back against the wall, eyes closing. “No, no, no. Stay awake. Eyes open” he turns to you, using that authoritative tone you’d almost forgotten. The minute the binding on his wrists is broken he drops the knife and brings his hands to your face, looking you in the eyes. “Don’t die on me, ok?” his voice surprisingly soft now.

You nod and force yourself to sit up, so he moves away and makes easy work of the ropes on his ankles. All of a sudden you’re alert and he hears it too, the sound of heavy footfall in the corridor outside. The adrenaline starts to course in both of you. “August. They want the codes. They’re going to torture you until you give them, and kill me if you don’t.” your words are quiet and rushed “but I have a tracker. Hidden. We didn’t check in, extraction will be on the way”. He nods once, gets up and tries to pull you up too, but you whine in pain and he senses that panic in himself again. He’s not stable enough that he can carry you and fight, so he takes the knife and places it in your hand. Going to stand by the door pressed against the wall, he steels himself for a fight but he’s thinking only of keeping you safe.

You watch on as they enter. Only two men, one of them you recognise – he’s to thank for the bleeding. August steadies himself, calculating for just a moment before he strikes, and suddenly he’s The Hammer again. It’s not his best fight, his limbs feel heavy and his powerful punches don’t land every time but he’s determined and focused and those two things are a lethal combination in him. You want to help—you’re supposed to be a team after all—but you can’t make yourself stand. You’re both so absorbed in the fight that you don’t hear the sound of bodies dropping on the floor above, the subtle footsteps of the team sent to find you.

When August’s energy is spent he falls to the ground with a thud, joining the two men, and you scramble to get to him. It’s your turn to fret, the worry almost drowning out the hurt for just a minute. But it’s too much, your movements to get to him, the world fading at the edges when you put too much pressure on your left leg. Everything goes black as you hear him call out your name before you too drop to the floor again.

—

It takes you days to come to properly, you’re both unconscious in the helicopter although August wakes up just after you get to the private CIA medical facility. His first conscious thought is of you, certain he’s only alive because of you. You aren’t there besides him, needing far more attention than him, and the nurses won’t let him leave the ward to find you. All he can do is lie back, eyes closed, letting the IV do its work as he hopes and hopes that you’ll be able to get through this. That guilt never leaves the back of his mind, the blame he won’t ever pass on to anyone else.

He isn’t there when your eyes finally flutter open, when you slowly observe the damage to your body and try not to cry. It’s going to take you a while to recover, you know that before the doctor comes over and tells you. You’re alive though, and that’s enough right now. Well, almost enough. You want him to be there, but that’s something you’re more than used to by now.

Just a few hours later he is there, the doctors finally giving up on sending him away. He hesitates when he sees you in the harsh daylight, even cleaned up and looked after you look worse than he expected. “I know what you’re thinking, Walker. I’ve never looked more beautiful, right?” you laugh, voice shaky but stronger than before. He smiles sympathetically at you and sits in the chair besides your bed. Almost reaches for your hand but seemingly remembers himself partway through the movement. He can’t suddenly smother you with his feelings for you, the ones that feel new but have been there just out of reach for much longer.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his voice is gentle but there’s a tension in him that you can’t ignore.

Groaning you reply, “Literally every part of me hurts”.

“I’m so sorry” he fails to keep his voice even, looking away from you. He doesn’t know what to do with the swell of emotion. All he wants is to hold you but he’s afraid of your fragility, too aware of causing you any more pain.

“August, stop it. This was never your fault. I told you that before” you sigh “We’re both alive and right now that’s all we need to think about”. He nods solemnly and you reach for his hand then, the strain making you grimace, before he realises and moves his hand to meet yours. He grasps your hand tighter than he means to but you can tell he’s starting to relax. Running his thumb gently along your wrist, he strokes the soft and unbruised flesh. He’s silent and seemingly lost in thought for a while, as you enjoy his touch.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, suddenly bashful. He didn’t mean to say it, and it takes you both by surprise.

“Yes. Please” you stammer, feeling the creep of heat on your face. Where did that come from?

He stands and leans over you, slowly bringing his face towards yours. Keeping his hands on either side of you, careful not to touch, too aware of the multitude of injuries. You want to reach for him but you can’t, anticipation suddenly buzzing through you. When his lips finally reach yours you sigh in to the kiss, not caring about the slight sting of pain at the contact. His lips are somehow impossibly soft, and the lightness of the kiss leaves you wishing for more. He smiles against your lips before pulling away, voice low when he tells you “I’m really, really glad you’re alive”.


End file.
